Page 2 of Ice Princess

Dazzled, I take a moment to admire the machine.

While some monster trucks are just rusty hubs with fancy paint slapped on them, Scooby’s Nightmare is a total beauty. The wheels are the size of tractor wheels and are so new, they carry the scent of rubber. The chassis is fabricated from scratch to match the suspension.

It’s clear the client spent a pretty penny on this masterpiece.

“Well, I’llbe.Rebel is that you?”

I turn to the voice and come face-to-face with Clifford Davoe, an old high school classmate.

“Cliff.” My eyebrows shoot up. “Fancy seeingyouhere.”

“Girl, how have you been?”

I smile tightly as Clifford’s eyes drag up and down my body.

“Still the beauty of Lucky Falls, huh?” He gives me another, obvious once-over and then glances at his crew. “This girl hadallthe seniors eating out of her hand. Everyone was gunning to date the bell of Cornblue High.” Clifford ambles over, arms outstretched. “Come give me a hug, girl.”

I step back. “It’s good to see you, Cliff, but let’s save our catching up until after we get Scooby’s Nightmare up to scratch.”

The smile teeters on his face and he flashes me a look of annoyance.

Frankly, I don’t care. I’ve long out-grown being called ‘girl’ by men my own age. Besides, we’re here to get a job done, not to shoot the breeze.

“Let’s unload the machine,” I say, moving toward the truck. “How many lengths of the iron rod did you bring, Cliff?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m afraid there’s no salvaging this.” Cliff nods to the monster truck, his demeanor a tad cold.

Mr. Rodney gasps. “What do you mean? Can’t we adjust the roll cage to meet the competition standards?”

“Uh-uh.” Cliff shakes his head. “The cage is supposed to protect the driver if the vehicle turns over. It’s specific to the frame of your truck. You’ll need to order the part from the manufacturer.”

Mr. Rodney’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “The manufacturer? Even if I got in touch with them today, it would take weeks to ship out. The competition starts in an hour. We don’t have time for that.”

“Cliff, the roll cage can be welded,” I speak up.

“Yeah.” Cliff crosses his hairy arms. “But to get the right specifications, it’ll take three months and way more materials than we have at the shop right now.”

Mr. Rodney staggers back.

I turn to the old man in concern. “Mr. Rodney, are you okay?”

“My son’s coming to the arena today,” he whispers, massaging his throat. “We’ve been estranged since his mother’s passing, but I reached out to him about the competition…”

My heart twists in my chest. I can practicallyfeelhow badly Mr. Rodney needs this.

“Forgive me. I’m rambling.” His chest caves in with a sad exhale. “Maybe this is a sign that he’s better off without me.”

My bottom lip trembles.

If my rolling stone of a father had caredhalfas much as Mr. Rodney, he wouldn’t have walked out on me and mom.

Mr. Rodney swallows hard. “If it can’t be helped, it can’t be helped. I’m sorry to waste everyone’s time.”

“No,” I say firmly.

Every eye darts my way.

Resolve surging in my heart, I motion to the monster truck, “I’ll work on the dimensions and find a design that’s both secure and safe for the driver.”

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